/Pádraig rang this morning to let us know our friend /Frank Darcy died early today, which was not surprising news, but which was very sad to hear indeed. I’d spoken with his brother on Monday, after texting Frank, and had been told he’d slipped into a deep coma from which he was not expected to awaken, so … yeah. Not surprising, but very sad. We expect we’ll go into Dublin Friday morning for the funeral mass (I think probably it’s fairly traditional for the Irish to attend the removal, as well, but we wouldn’t be able to get back to Longford if we did), though the early trains might make it complicated. We’ll see.
In the schizophrenia promised in the subject line…aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, it’s really been a rather nice day. We have internets at home now, and I’ve spent the last couple hours trying frantically to catch up on some email and general arrangement of stuff. I’ve made a small dent, at least. We went to see “Hancock”, which turned out a whole lot darker than we expected, but in the end we liked it pretty well. I mean, c’mon, it’s Will Smith. What’s not to like? (really, if you don’t like Will Smith, you don’t have to answer that…)
I haven’t managed to reach 50K on the book yet. I’d decided I was taking today off, but then we heard about Frank, and I couldn’t afford to not write today if we’re going to Dublin on Friday, so I scraped through the last of chapter 14 and know where to start 15, but I didn’t quite make 50K on the book. OTOH, I have broken 250K for the year. Holy moly.
Wonder if I can show off the cover for issue #1 yet.
ytd wordcount: 250,600
miles to Isengard: 64.6